Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Psychic Surgery: Fact or Fiction

I don’t remember the exact date when I first saw a documentary on Psychic Surgery, but it was sometime in 1969. I was visiting my mother on Merritt Island and we were sitting around the dining room chatting about this and that when a documentary of the subject came on television. I remember that it was produced on behalf of a major network and it was obviously biased by a disbelief in the possibility of such. At the time I was fascinated by the subject though by that time in my life I had forgotten my spiritual heritage and was fully immersed in the attempt to become a “normal” human being with the ordinary goal of being the best disk jockey in the radio business. We watched without comment. We were all riveted by what looked like a man doing something with his fingers over the exposed lower abdomen of a Asian woman. There was a short movement and he lifted his hands and placed an object in a bowl. It looked like what I’ve since heard doctors refer to as a polyp. The commentator, sounding very objective, said that it could just as easily been a piece of chicken or some other animal, that the psychic surgeon had secreted into the scene through some slight of hand. Part of me wanted to agree with him. But something subtle reminded me to stay open to this fascinating concept. I had experienced surgery in the classic method several times and for a number of problems by then and this event looked like a preferred way to go.

The evening passed and it was three years later that another event altered my perspective, decided my direction and changed my mind about the nature of reality, forever. At age twenty five, after 14 months of intense daily contemplation of my life and purpose, I experienced a complete loss of any sense of self and entered into a state of ecstasy. Along with all that implies came the perception that our physicality is merely an illusion. A play of light upon the screen of the theater of mind. This experience is connected to our subject only as a means of identifying the mechanics of the process. If in fact we are only light at the simplest level of our being then anyone who may perceive the phenomenon of that dimension has a key to access that dimension. Of course it would hold that to work there with any recipient, the recipient must be in cooperation with the practitioner. And so my story of my experience with psychic surgery begins.

I was in my 42nd year and had been a massage therapist for several years. I had met my friend Silmar a few months earlier and she was deeply connected to the community of healers locally and knew about many of the more obscure events that took place. I was at home in my apartment when the lady I was dating at the time came by. She was all excited about this man she had met at a local residence who was performing this service all day and into the night for all who asked. As usual, in spite of my openness, I was skeptical. I listened but did not act until I got a call from Silmar. She said “Come over here right away!” My friend and I left immediately and arrived in a few minutes at a house in Winter Park. From there we went to a garage that had been converted to an apartment. As I entered the room I saw a beautiful man of average stature and a very demure woman of whom I took little note. The room was filled with a light that I had only experienced in the moments of extreme joy. It came as if from the very atmosphere itself.

I should tell you now, that from the time of my early childhood, I have had many injuries and insults visited upon my body. The number of traumatic experiences are in the hundreds. But None are as great as the anger I have felt toward myself for living in denial of my true nature and the source of my Being. My anger manifested most profoundly in my liver. The sensitivity of this region was such that while laying on my back the weight of my hand on my chest or abdomen was too painful to bear.

After entering the room I was instructed to remove my clothes, leaving my underwear on, and to lay down on a massage table covered with a white sheet. Silmar and my other friend were with me and watched from the side as I did this. The practitioner then spread a salve-like substance that smelled strongly of camphor but contained other ingredients I feel certain. He moved very quickly and I was able to lift my head to watch his hands. He wore slacks and a long sleeved white shirt that was rolled up passed his elbows. There was no way he could hide anything in his hands which I noted with a casual thought. The energy of the room was intense but pleasant. I was not afraid but very attentive to his actions. He lightly brushed my entire torso, his hands circling my upper abdomen. Suddenly he said “liver” out loud and then began a movement that looked like rolling out dough to make bread. He moved quickly, with clarity and confidence, pushing away from the area of my liver. It reminded me of the story of the parting of the Red Sea. It was as if they were the "ghosts" of layers of water covering me. I could see through these waves as though they were glass. (I have learned since then that these Psychics see the body as if it were water). After a few pushes in three directions away from the area of my liver he then formed a shape like a bowl with his hands, fingers curved and pointed toward the area surrounding the point of my discomfort. I began immediately to feel a warmth in the center of the tissue under his hand. The only way to describe it is to liken it to the heat I felt when working on radio transmitting equipment during my years in the broadcasting industry. I occasionally had to climb a tower to change warning bulbs while the station continued to transmit at a greatly reduced wattage. If I held the tower too tightly or too long in one place I would feel the heat build in my bones as it slowly cooked me. The difference is that felt like dirty heat. This was a clean and graceful heat. After a few short moments his fingers disappeared into my abdomen up to the second knuckle joint. They went right into my body! Intellectually I was astounded while feeling completely at ease with all that was transpiring. Suddenly there was a noise like plopping/squirting sound accompanied by small drops of blood that spattered my face and torso. I simultaneously saw something dark fly from my upper belly just under the bottom rib very close to my mid-line. He moved to a bowl that his assistant now held and flicked what looked like a slightly irregularly shaped piece of tar about an inch long as thick as a pencil lead. He did a few other things to me, all less dramatic but with ease and Grace. It was very easy to surrender to his loving touch. It was obvious that his dispassionate approach treated me with respect and impersonal positive regard. I felt loved by a force beyond the totality of our person.

I left the room after repossessing my clothing. Later while sharing the experience with my friend Silmar and my girlfriend Elizabeth, both reprted seeing a hole open up in my abdomen. They "could see my guts." I, on the other hand, could not see past the bottom of my rib cage as I tilted my head.

Many went to him that day and they all experienced profound healing in his presence. Some resisted and had a harder time of it, others surrendered and were touched with ease.

After the event, and for several months, I could see a small, jagged red line, much like a spider vein, right where the pain had been centralized. That gradually faded and is now only memory. The pain went away immediately and has never returned. I am truly grateful for all involved.

I was told this man would pray with his assistant for many hours each day in devotion to his love of Christ. I have also learned that he was an ambassador to the United States from his native country and that someone here, who felt threatened by this form of healing, informed the State Department. Consequently, he was told never to return to America. (This article was originally published in the Healthy Alliance Journal Vol. III No. 5 in November of 1996.)